Ren didn't wake up hungry. That was a surprise.
He sat up slowly, still beneath the tree, surrounded by dew and shadow. The smell of pine lingered in the cool air. Morning birds called. His stomach wasn't growling for once.
Instead, he felt stronger. Lighter. More awake. Like someone had fed him magic through his dreams.
He checked his body: clean, scraped but healing. The wound on his forearm had scabbed over.
He stood. The spear still leaned against the tree where he left it.
A notification hovered in front of him—faint, nearly transparent.
> Skill Gained: Precision Strike
Your first blow lands with perfect accuracy. Once per encounter. No cost.
He stared at it. Then blinked.
It didn't disappear.
So that wasn't a dream.
It vanished on its own after a few seconds.
Ren exhaled and gripped the spear. "Once per encounter," he murmured.
He took a few practice swings. His form was cleaner. He could feel the weight of the weapon better than before.
Not just stronger—smarter. His body remembered what his mind didn't know.
Another nap, another power.
That meant if he kept sleeping, he'd keep changing.
The problem? He still didn't know where he was. Or what was out there.
He needed food. Water. Shelter. Information.
He looked out into the forest.
No trails. No smoke. Just trees.
So he picked a direction—toward the rising sun—and moved.
---
Two hours later, he found a stream. Cold, fast, and clean. He drank straight from the flow, cupping water with both hands. His throat burned from thirst.
He washed his face, then splashed water on the back of his neck.
He looked around.
No movement.
But something felt off.
He wasn't alone.
He gripped his spear and stood. Slowly.
The forest was too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just breath.
Then—
A rustle.
Low, to the left.
He turned. Stepped back.
A creature stalked into view. Low to the ground. Long limbs. Pale skin. It had no eyes. Just ears—large and twitching. Its nose pulsed.
Ren held his breath.
The thing crept closer, sniffing.
It didn't see him. But it smelled something.
Ren crouched. Waited. The spear in his hand felt steady.
One chance. One perfect blow.
He triggered the skill.
The world slowed for a breath.
He lunged.
The spear drove through the creature's head with a crunch.
It shrieked. Once. Then fell still.
Dead.
Ren yanked the weapon free.
His hands shook. Just a little.
He checked the corpse. Thin, wiry. Almost human. But wrong.
What kind of world was this?
He didn't wait to find out.
He moved again—faster now. And this time, he wasn't alone. The woods watched him.
---
Part 2: Smoke and a Stranger
By late afternoon, he spotted smoke.
Thin. Controlled. Not a wildfire.
He slowed his pace.
The land had shifted—less forest, more dry grass and scattered boulders.
He crested a ridge and saw it.
A small hut. Stone walls. Thatched roof. A fenced garden.
And someone was there.
A woman. Late twenties maybe. Short hair, sharp eyes. She wore armor—leather, with chain beneath. A sword on her hip.
She looked up before he got close.
Didn't panic. Didn't wave.
Just stared.
Ren raised a hand.
She didn't move.
He walked slow. Spear down.
When he got within talking range, she spoke.
"You're not from around here."
It wasn't a question.
"No," Ren said. "I woke up in the forest."
She squinted. "You don't look dead."
"I feel like I should be."
She eyed the spear. "You kill something?"
Ren nodded. "Didn't get its name."
She smirked. Just a little.
Then: "You're lucky. Most fresh drops don't last a day."
"Drops?"
"From the rift. Or wherever they spit you out."
Ren's stomach turned. "You've seen others?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. They usually come with nothing. You're dressed better than most."
"I had a nap," he said. "Woke up with this." He held the spear.
She didn't laugh. Just tilted her head.
"You've got a blessing then. One of the weird ones. Sleep-skill?"
He blinked.
She read his face. "Thought so. Saw a kid like that once. Slept under a cart, woke up throwing fire."
Ren lowered the spear. "What is this place?"
She motioned behind her. "Outskirts of Irelan. The real world's east of here. You'll need a map. Or a guide."
"You?" he asked.
She crossed her arms. "Not unless you've got coin."
"I don't."
She turned. "Then you've got work to do."
---
He stayed near her hut that night. Not inside. She made that clear.
But she let him eat from her stew.
She didn't ask many questions. Just watched.
Before sleeping, he asked her name.
She didn't give it.
"Earn it," she said.
Then walked inside and shut the door.
Ren lay near the dying fire. Stars overhead. A full belly.
He felt tired. Not afraid.
And when sleep came, he welcomed it.
---
Part 3: The Depths of Ruin
They left before dawn.
Ren didn't ask for her name. She didn't offer it. She just pointed northeast past the dying farms, where the soil turned to shale and the trees grew bent and dry.
They walked in silence. His pack was light—bread, jerky, a whetstone. Her gear looked expensive: buckled straps, reinforced boots, a dagger that glinted like steel soaked in fire.
They reached the edge of a ravine before noon.
There was no marker. No sign.
Just a jagged slope where the land had cracked and sunk. A wide open wound in the hills, half-swallowed by thorned brush and ash-colored rock.
"There," she said.
Ren stepped closer.
Below, tucked into the rock face, was a doorway. Stone, half-sunken. Built into the earth like something ancient trying not to be found.
"A ruin?" he asked.
She nodded. "A fort, maybe. Pre-collapse."
"Collapse?"
She shrugged. "Empire stuff. Before the kingdoms split. Doesn't matter."
It did, but Ren said nothing.
Instead, he checked the slope. Slippery. Loose. Not impossible.
He slid down first. Landed on his feet. Waited.
She followed. No misstep. She was used to this.
The doorway loomed over them.
No inscriptions. Just black stone, weathered and cracked.
Ren drew his spear.
She pulled her dagger.
They entered.
---
Inside, the air shifted.
Cold. Dry. It didn't feel like a ruin. It felt like something had been waiting.
They moved slow.
Torchlight painted long shadows against old walls. Crumbled murals. Empty sconces. Dust that looked untouched for years—except for the single trail of broken stone leading deeper inside.
A dragging mark.
"See that?" she whispered.
He nodded.
They followed it.
The tunnel sloped downward. Sound fell away. No wind. No rats. Just the quiet scrape of boots and the weight of being too far from the surface.
After ten minutes, the tunnel opened.
A wide chamber. Tall ceiling. Pillars carved from a single block of stone. And in the center—
Something moved.
It was small. Crawling. Human-shaped, but not human.
It twisted, then hissed.
Ren stepped forward.
She grabbed his arm. "Wait. Look."
There were more.
Four. No—five. All curled in corners. Bones thin like glass. Eyes like pits. Skin stretched, gray and damp.
"What are they?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
One lunged.
Ren moved on instinct. Spear forward. It screeched—a sharp, wet sound—and impaled itself.
Dead weight.
Another leapt. He spun, drove the blade through its eye. Then the others came, too fast to count.
He didn't retreat.
Didn't give ground.
One fell. Then two. His arm bled where claws had caught skin. But he kept going.
They weren't strong. Just fast. Mindless.
When the last collapsed, twitching and still, he turned.
She was leaning on the far wall. Not injured. Watching.
"Why'd you wait?" he asked.
"To see if you could," she said.
He stared.
"I'm not here to babysit," she added. "I'm here to map. That's all. You're the blade. I'm the coin."
He wiped the blood off his spear.
"Next time, say that first."
She smirked.
He turned back to the room. The walls weren't empty.
Symbols.
Not of kingdoms. Not of churches.
Older.
Ren didn't know how he knew that. He just did.
"This place..." he started.
She was already ahead.
They pressed on.
---
They reached a sealed door by the third chamber.
Circular. No handle. No hinges.
Just a handprint.
She looked at him.
He stepped forward.
Without thinking, he placed his hand to the stone.
It lit.
A thin red glow traced the circle, followed his fingers, pulsed once—and clicked.
The door shuddered, then slowly rolled away.
She stared.
He didn't.
He just stepped through.
Because something was down here.
And it knew him.